


Holiday at the Himmapan

by CreativeLiterature



Series: Metal Gear Solid Simulation [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VIII, Hitman (Video Games), Jackass (Movies) RPF, Metal Gear, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M, Self-Insert, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29723724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreativeLiterature/pseuds/CreativeLiterature
Summary: Retired commandos under Solid Snake's exploits take a break at the Himmapan Hotel.
Relationships: Johnny Knoxville/Original Female Character(s), Kyan Douglas/Original Male Character(s), Solid Snake/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Metal Gear Solid Simulation [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184519





	1. Chapter 1

Adam

“Isn’t this lovely? I think it’s lovely,” Adam stared up at the Himmapan hotel, with Kyan close by.

“It’s weird seein’ you without bodyguards,” Kyan chuckled, as they made it up the front steps.

“Nonsense. After all, I can protect us both,” Adam lugged both their suitcases to the front desk. “Hello, checking in.”

“Mr Spencer? Please, right this way,” sweated a receptionist, who referred to a clerk who escorted them through the vine hanging lobby, up a set of stairs, and into one of the ordinary suites, with a bow.

“Please let me know if you need anything,” the clerk bowed once more, and shut the doors.

“Look at this place,” Kyan gestured. There was a claw foot tub, a wide screen TV, vases of flowers, and a big bed with chocolate mints on the pillows.

“Relax,” Adam leaned out the balcony. “This is yours - ours - for as long as we want it.”

Clara

“This is OK, I guess,” Clara looked around, at the expansive foyer, the massive living and dining room, the many bedrooms and ensuites, and bordered by men in black suites with grim expressions and pistols at their sides.

“How much did it cost?” Irvine guffawed, when the porters had let them be.

“There was some lawyer staying here. I told them that was unacceptable,” Clara took the stairs, where the guards no longer resided.

Here, in the center was a glass domed inner sanctum of garden, with one master bedroom and ensuite on one side, and two smaller bedrooms with ensuites on the other side.

“One is for Grace,” Clara shrugged. “She kept pissing me off, so she’ll arrive soon. She got a late flight, ‘cos she missed hers.”

“What about your brother?” Irvine grinned.

“He’s here,” Clara nodded. “Don’t you see the other penthouse suite on the other side of the building? I’m taking a shower.”

Max

Max surveyed his penthouse, full of cords for music equipment, beers downed by gig members - he wasn’t in a band, but had outfitted the place for such - and security members everywhere. The place was a tip, in stark comparison with Clara’s abode across the way.

“Maria,” he called, with a smirk.

Curvaceous, red haired, Latino, Maria was not the brightest spark, not the most luscious of the groupies, but she had been his first, and claimed pride of place by his side.

“Go upstairs,” Max goosed her and she blushed. “I’ve got a surprise for ya.”

Grace

“Oh, jeez,” Grace dropped her luggage, and the guests of the hotel glanced over the railing, atop their recliners, clutching drinks in their hands, moving sunglasses onto their foreheads. “Come on, Kylie.”

“Mommy, I wanna play,” Kylie cried, and sticky hands outfitted for trouble were reined in by Grace’s scrabbling hand.

“You know you can’t,” Grace frowned. “Oh, and we’re late already. I hope Clara’s isn’t mad.”

“Is aunt Clara here?” Kylie clambered, as Grace led her to the front desk.

“I think so,” Grace scooped hair out of her face, and breathlessly with a smile rushed to the front counter. “Hi, hi. I’m here, sorry. My name’s Grace Knoxville.”

“Knoxville, Knoxville… “ the receptionist paged through the book. “I’m sorry, we don’t have a reservation under that name.”

“I’m staying with Clara Kinneas?” Grace pleaded.

“Well, we’ll have to give her a call,” the receptionist held the line. “I’m sorry, she isn’t picking up. Perhaps you could wait in the lobby?”

“Mommy - “ Kylie tugged, and Grace’s handbag slipped open, spilling personal items. Kylie ran across the lobby, scooped up by a grim hotel security worker.

“Miss, I’m afraid if you could just wait in that area,” the receptionist pointed, with a nod to the guard.

Grace was seated in a little booth, while Kylie grumpily looked up at the hanging vines, momentarily transfixed. She was offered water, while Kylie wriggled and tried to get free.

“Stop fidgeting!” Grace scolded. “Honestly. Clara should’ve picked up by now. I know! Excuse me? Can you please call Adam Spencer? He’s my brother. O-or Max Spencer. He’s my cousin.”

“If you’ll just wait right there, miss,” the receptionist took some calls. “I’m afraid none of them are picking up - “

“I really am who I say I am,” Grace reddened.

“I’m afraid we simply must call for the gondola,” the receptionist nodded to a clerk. “We have no free rooms available… “

“But I can hang out, right?” Grace pleaded, as the security guard stared. “Fine, fine. Come on, Kylie.”

“Grace?” cried Maria, coming down the steps.

Maria, attended by security guards, wearing a leopard print fur coat with a tight red dress underneath, sashayed towards Grace and took her in a hug.

“These people won’t let me in,” Grace whispered.

“Excuse me,” Maria clicked her fingers. “Thees is my boyfriend’s cousin. She can stay with us - “

“Oh, no - um - I mean,” Grace replied, flustered. “I’m already staying with Clara - “

“Take her bags!” Maria ordered, and clerks hurried to assist.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” Grace grabbed Kylie’s hand, and pulled her through the foyer, attended by hastily obsequious clerks, upstairs into Clara’s penthouse suite.

“Wow,” Grace wiped her fringe. “Is Clara here?”

“Upstairs, miss,” nodded one of Clara’s personal guard. “With respect, in the nicest possible way, she has asked not to be disturbed. Of course, she appreciates and welcomes your company at this time.”

“Thank you,” Grace let her clerks drop the suitcases, and bow out of the room. “Kylie, come here. She’s so spirited that child. I hope - “

With smiles, some of the security guards took the child on their shoulders or to play, and Grace relieved dropped into a sofa, poured herself a glass of champagne, and flicked on some TV.

Adam

“Aren’t you cold?” Kyan did stretches on the TV programme.

“I like the night air,” Adam smiled, and drew the toweling robe closer.

The balcony fluttered the curtains, and Adam retired into the bedroom, the door ajar. He sat on the big bed, unwrapping one of the mints, and curling up with his favourite book.

“Room service,” came a knock on the door.

“Did you order something?” Adam called, dropping the book. “Oh, bugger it. I lost my boomark.”

Adam reached over the bed, finally having to tug himself further, practically bent into a pretzel to look under the bed, grabbing it and the bookmark. Tiredly, blowing his fringe out of his face, he paged through to where he was up to and cleared his throat.

“I hope you’ve saved some for me,” Adam called. “Kyan?”

Adam wandered into the living room with the book by his side, and stood frozen. A hotel clerk, clearly more cannily eyed with a knife at Kyan’s throat and a pistol pointed at Adam, held Kyan hostage.

“What a very silly thing to do,” Adam said silkily.

“Don’t move,” warned the clerk. “We know what we’re doing.”

“We?” Adam’s eyes became slits. “Do you have any idea who you’re messing with?”

“You’re rich - richer than God, if the rumours are true,” the clerk spat. “And we want a ransom.”

“You picked the worst possible time,” Adam heaved. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to give you an honorable out. A gentlemen’s agreement. Let Kyan go.”

“This isn’t the movies,” the clerk spat. “You’ll get a call soon. And then you’ll pay. You’ll  _ all _ pay - “

Quick as lighting, so fast Kyan could barely blink, Adam threw his book at the clerk’s face. The silenced pistol fired, shattering a vase of flowers; Kyan dropped to the floor in the throes of fear and fright, and the clerk stumbled, the pistol only just remaining within his grip.

“Fool,” Adam strode towards the clerk, who aimed his pistol once more, but Adam grabbed his arm, lashed out with a kick, knocked the pistol to the floor, avoided a lunge from the clerk, held him in a headlock, which tightened his grasp, and let him unable to get by. “Tell me who you work for or I’ll  _ snap your neck _ .”

“People. Powerful people,” quailed the clerk. “As we speak, your family are being taken care of.”

“Why? For only money?” Adam sneered.

“I hope for their sakes,” hesitated the clerk, “they don’t know kung fu like you.”

Adam snapped his neck, and Kyan rubbed his, aghast.

“Well,” Adam raised his eyebrow, disassembling the silenced pistol. “I suppose it’s time for action.”

He went to his briefcase, Kyan still in shock, and flipped it open. An olive drab uniform, a silenced M191A11, a combat knife, stun and smoke grenades, and throwing knives.

“Quite a setup,” Kyan wiped his brow. “Will you leave me here?”

“Defend yourself with this,” Adam kicked over the silenced pistol. “Stay with the door locked.”

Grace

“Where’s Clara?” Grace came out of her room, where the domed glass center was empty.

“She and Mr Kinneas are dining downstairs,” the security guard replied. “Would you like me to order room service for you and Kylie?”

“Yes, please. Hamburgers. And fries!” Grace cried happily.

She came downstairs, and ate in front of the TV with Kylie by her side.

“Oh, I love this commercial,” Grace snuggled Kylie. “And you’re my favourite daughter!”

“I’m your only daughter,” Kylie pouted.

A security guard hurried to Grace’s side. “Miss, we’ll have to evacuate.”

“What?” Grace froze, and Kylie stared.

“There’s - “

The double doors to the foyer burst open, and guards were riddled by silenced bullets. Grace dragged Kylie in a hurry, up the stairs as security guards fought with the intruders, losing over the weight of assault rifle bullets, and peppering the staircase with hurry and fright, Grace barely avoided rifle fire, as Kylie screeched.

“What about Clara?” Grace cried.

“Lock the door,” the security guard ordered, and took position with some remnants in front of the door.

“Kylie, get under the bed,” Grace shivered, in the quiet confines of the large bedroom.

Kylie wriggled under, mumbling, sucking her thumb, terried, moaning. Grace sat by the bed, twisting the sheets.

“Oh, Kylie,” Grace unbuckled a device from her belt. “Use this! Only when the coast is clear!”

Grace chucked it under the bed, and Kylie nodded, holding it tight. Bullets rained in the corridor, and the door buckled and flew open. Grace shrieked, held at gunpoint, and Kylie flicked the little switch on the device, tucking it in her pocket, and the intruder who checked under the bed saw nothing.

Clara

“I’m going to the potty,” Clara announced, among diners, seated opposite her husband, the waiter effusive, the salad excellent and white wine flowing, as she crossed the room, followed by four suited security guards, two who searched the bathroom and two who flanked the entrance, one who stood in the foyer, and another who stood in front of her cubicle, the room-behind-a-door.

Clara washed her hands and glanced in the mirror, hearing thudding noises, and opening the door but her security guard held her back.

“What is it?” Clara demanded, fear creeping into her voice. “Move!”

Clara moved into where the wash basins were, where another girl lay in fear, and the foyer door burst open. Intruders with machine guns fired, and the bullets veered into the girl and her guard, killing them both.

“What is this - “ the intruder fired at Clara, daringly, and the bullet arced. “Impossible!”

“Not impossible,” Clara grabbed for the guard’s fallen pistol, and tussled with the intruder, who knocked her flat with the butt of his pistol, and she lay unconscious.

Max

Max, his apartment as loud as ever with the groupies and even some of the security guards coaxed into joining the ruckus, was spent upstairs with Maria, lying in the crux of her body.

“I love you,” Max kissed her, lovingly, longingly. The phone rang, and he stirred to answer it. “What?”

“Mr Spencer,” spoke an effete voice. “As we speak, your cousin Adam is held hostage. Your cousin Grace is held hostage. And your sister Clara held hostage.  _ We _ demand a ransom.”

Max bolted, burst through his bedroom into the ensuite, looked down from atop a counter, peering from the window where scatterings of ants labeled people, scurried in a most decidedly hurried fashion.

“Oh, yes,” chuckled the voice. “And only by virtue of your party would our success be complete. No, but you will pay us. We will escape. And you will find - “

Max threw down the phone, and ventured once more into his bedroom, where Maria held the sheets to her body.

“What is it, my love?” Maria demanded.

Max put on his bulletproof gear, his infinite ammo bandanna, his grenade launcher strapped to his back.

“It’s time to rock,” Max loaded the shotgun. “Don’t come out till I say so.”

Adam

Adam shimmied up the pipe which led to Clara’s penthouse suite, the windows locked and bolted. He heard nothing, and shimmied back down into his room.

The intruder who lay dead, costumed in the livery of a clerk, his radio buzzed by his side.

“Report,” came the order.

“It keeps saying that,” Kyan was clutched with his head in his hands. “I can’t do this!”

“You will,” Adam nodded, and knocks came to the door.

“Room service,” came a firm voice.

“Hide,” Adam ordered, and dragged the body out of sight as Kyan locked himself in the bedroom.

Adam hid behind the doors as the keycard swiped them open, and the two intruders saw the shattered vase. He leapt at one, disarmed another, disabled the first, threw down the second. Both lay stunned, and with serious kicks, out cold. Adam fired on both with headshots.

He ventured out into the hallway, eerily quiet. With his gear, he took to the staircase leading up to Clara’s room, and at the penthouse doors, he saw two intruders raise their rifles just as he rounded the corner.

“Don’t move!” cried one, as the other ventured forth like his shadow.

Adam raised his hands, the pistol loose in his finger.

“Drop the weapon,” ordered the second. “Slowly.”

Adam lowered his hand, pistol dropped, and raised his hands once more. One intruder kept his rifle poised on Adam, while the second advanced.

The moment the second lashed out with the butt of his rifle, Adam took hold, and knocked the first with a shove. He grabbed his silenced pistol, and fired on the first, then grabbed the second, and disguised himself.

Inside, he looked around where intruders held strong, waiting for the ransom call to be sure. He went upstairs, where more intruders guarded the bedroom door.

“What is it?” spoke one of the intruders.

“Adam is captured, and his boyfriend,” Adam replied.

“Good,” replied the intruder. “We have the Knoxville girl and the Kinneas lady. We are waiting on the last - across the way - to respond to our calls.”

Adam looked around at the six intruders who guarded the top floor. Difficult, but not impossible.

“I’m afraid I have to disagree,” said Adam, raising his rifle.

Two were peppered by his bullets, by the time he threw himself round cover. He aimed for a third on the other side of the room, hearing footsteps from the fourth and fifth coming close.

He lashed out, his rifle chucked to the ground and his M191A11 drawn, taking the fourth in a chokehold, shooting the fifth, the sixth hiding behind cover, and Adam snapped the neck of the fourth.

“Backup, upstairs!” cried the intruder, on his radio.

Adam threw a stun grenade, and it lit the room, and walking over to the stunned remaining intruder, ended him in a headshot. He tore off his balaclava and opened the doors to Clara’s suite, where Grace’s hands were tied around the base of a chair.

“Thank god!” Grace wept. “Kylie is under the bed - “

Kylie switched off her stealth camo, and hugged Adam’s leg. Adam released Grace from her restraints, and pounding footsteps hurried upstairs.

“You and Kylie hold hands to activate the stealth camo,” Adam ordered, as they hid behind cover, and he prepped his pistol. “I’ll handle the rest.”

Max

Max was having the time of his life, a vengeful brother and cousin, armed to the teeth. He and his security detail, unafraid of what consequences his noncompliance with the ransom would cause, blasted their way through the hotel; his men had pistols, while the intruders had rifles, but Max had gunpower, and bullets pinged off him, and he fired salvo after salvo, launching grenades when he felt like it, blowing apart cover.

“I wanted a nice relaxation here. And you’ve ruined it,” Max cocked his shotgun, and blew apart another intruder who dared to face him.

He hurried over to the other side of the hotel, deserted and quiet, with the Clara’s penthouse suite littered with bodies of the intruders. He saw Adam coming downstairs, his pistol readied; Grace and Kylie flit into sight, happy to see him, too.

“Where’s Clara?” Max growled.

“I don’t know,” Adam admitted.

“She was dining downstairs,” Grace spoke up.

Clara

Clara regained consciousness as the intruders led her towards the parking area, loading her into the back of a van, her hands tied behind her back. She saw darkness, and the jolting of the van as it began moving.

“We’ve got to get somewhere safe,” scarpered the intruder, his passenger cocking his pistol. “How’s about… “

“Bank of New York,” Clara whispered into her codec.


	2. Chapter 2

SNAKE

“Now listen up,” Snake growled. “How could you let this happen?”

“We tried,” Adam began plaintively. “Were you able to track her?”

“We got a message from her comms. She hasn’t replied since, so they must’ve drugged her. There’s no way of extracting nanomachines that they’d know how. She’s at a bank.”

“What, is she working there?” Max frowned.

“There’ll be a vault at the bottom, very secure. They mean to transport her out overnight. The bank closes tonight, and the place will be even more secure then. We need to infiltrate and extract her, but if we blow our cover, they’ll extract her early. Any questions?”

“Who will go on this mission?” Adam asked pompously. “I am an infiltration and disguise expert, as you know - “

“Max won’t go, he’s the heavy cavalry,” Snake snorted. “And Adam, you’re too much into the theatrics like Vamp. Grace pulls off the citizen look, but you’d all be recognised. No, there’s only one person - besides myself - who will go with me.”

Zoe

“Nice look,” Zoe chuckled.

She entered on the arm of Snake, dressed in a black pantsuit, her red hair coiled into a chignon, heels clacking on the tiles. Snake wore a tuxedo, and both carried briefcases as they entered the lobby of the bank, fine customers, attentive clerks, and security guards in case someone tried something funny.

“You go your way, I’ll go mine,” Snake nodded, and the two parted ways.

Zoe headed for the clerk.

“I’m here to open an account,” Zoe ordered.

“At once, miss. Your name?”

“Blade,” she replied, and the clerk lit up.

“Ah, yes. Please come this way,” the clerk swung the gold barrier door, and led her into a cubicle. “Of course, all our meetings are private.”

The doors slid shut, the windows became frosted, and the clerk consulted a computer.

“Are you sure these are properly private?” Zoe asked, and the clerk glanced to the wall panel, and she plugged a device onto the back of his laptop screen.

“Oh, yes. Quite safe,” beamed the clerk. “Now, as to your accounts… “

SNAKE

Snake headed to the right, down a corridor where a guard stood over the downstairs and upstairs staircase. He hid behind a bunch of pot plants, and vaulted over the railing to land downstairs with a grunt, sneaking upon a guard chatting with a lady who was organising luggage and cases.

He snuck by them both, into an IT hub where two nerds played video games, the volume high. He snuck past them, into the server room and disabled one of the switches. In a storage locker, he hid, and waited for the footsteps - he saw a black suited security guard enter, grumble and fiddle with the switches.

The moment the switch was back on, Snake leapt out of his hiding place.

“Freeze,” he ordered, and the guard raised his hands.

Snake knocked the man unconscious, taking his disguise, and putting his body in the container. He now wore a fine black suit, shades over his eyes, his silenced USP at his side. He strode out to where the IT men had gathered back to their computers, out to the left where the gaping corridor of the deposit boxes yawned, and where he saw behind glass windows, the heavy, magnificent vault.

Zoe

“I’ve hacked into their network,” Zoe sat in a toilet cubicle, paging her codec, the laptop from her briefcase on her lap as she typed. “You’ll need a keycard to bypass that door. Once inside, I see five security guards overseeing a hub which looks onto the vault. To access the vault, you’ll need to raise the console inside the hub, then swipe the keycard over it. Clara should be inside.”

Zoe flushed and left the cubicle, checking her hair in the mirror. She swung her briefcase by her side, coming downstairs and spying - from across the other side of the room - as from  _ those _ bathrooms, two people in pig masks wielding weapons fired a spray of bullets at the ceiling, and the security guard who stood by the velvet ropes, one among many spread throughout the room, drew his pistol, advanced, paused at the threat of hostages, paged his radio.

“Damnit,” Zoe saw the door to her right, as the scuffle broke out, as citizens lay on the floor screaming, as guards put their weapons down lest loss of life, and the two pig-mask robbers demanded all capitulate to their demands.

Zoe tried the door but it wouldn’t budge, and she heard footsteps coming from upstairs as she hid underneath the crook of the staircase. She retrieved a lockpick from her belt, and as the backup with rifles held off, lest the civilians get hurt, and the general emergency state blared throughout the bank, Zoe quickened to pick the lock of the door, and closed it behind her before more footsteps could arrive.

In the back room she was now in, two security guards were contacting HQ just round the corner, pistols drawn, and their fear at the ready to pounce on these vile robbers.

Zoe in her business suit and with her briefcase drew from it a small collapsible umbrella, which popped out and expanded, and the material of the umbrella contracted into the hilt, out of which shone a blade, a high frequency sword, and she crept closer.

“Backup’s in ten minutes,” sweated one of the guards.

Zoe wielded her sword, and leapt upon the two. Teetering in high heels, she nonetheless slayed them both, and faced the glass doors which needed a keycard to enter. She searched the pockets of both of the guards but neither were forthcoming.

“Damnit,” Zoe swore, and glanced around to hide the bodies in a nearby storage bin. She paged her comms. “Snake, what’s your situation? Some robbers are trying to take the place hostage.”

SNAKE

“I can’t get in,” Snake held firm, still in the disguise of the elite guard, while the deposit box floor was held off by security, armed with rifles, waiting for the go ahead from the top. “I’ve got a keycard to the vault area, but it’s been sealed with the lockdown emergency.”

“Well, neither can I,” Zoe scoffed. “I don’t even have a keycard.”

Snake watched with grim horror as the glass windows into the vault became frosted.

“They’re doing the transport,” Snake paged into his comms. “We have to track the van that comes out of the garage.”

“How are either of us gonna get out?” Zoe raised her voice. “When the bank is locked down, and backup is arriving to prevent the robbers getting away?”

“I’ve got an idea,” Snake disconnected.

He moved back into the IT area, where the nerds were sweating, harried over their computers, discussing worst case scenarios.

“Clear out,” Snake ordered in his gruff tone. “Get in the server room.”

Keen to obey authority, the nerds complied. In the computer room alone, Snake retrieved a screwdriver from a desk, and unscrewed the vent, with a small opening that he could not fit into. He bent down and unclasped his suitcase, retrieving the MKII which unfolded into action.

“Here you go, little buddy,” Snake popped the MKII into the vent, who slid down on his little wheels, and watched him go from a little handled monitor.

The MKII clanged down the vent and banged into the vent grate on the other side, a cable snaking out to attempt to push the vent open, or unscrew it, but to no avail.

“Damnit,” Snake growled.

From the MKII’s perspective, a console rose in front of the vault, and a score of elite guards burst from the hub overview. The MKII activated stealth camo, and one of the elite guards swiped their key card against the console.

The vault door began to swing open, on the outer edges of the MKII’s periphery, and the elite guards raised their rifles and surged in.

“They’re going into the vault,” Snake comm’d Zoe. “Have you found a way out?”

Zoe

Zoe, wielding her sword, having hidden the corpses of the two security guards, and wearing a tight black pantsuit, was hemmed into this little office, unable to go out the front way where bank robbers held the lobby, and through the other door, where security guards would notice her exit, and shoot her on sight.

“I can’t disguise as security, I’ve stabbed them both,” Zoe reported. “But there might be a way… “

Zoe knelt to the third door, one which led out front, but where the desk clerks for luggage were crouched and cowering, while the bank robbers bellowed out commands, as could be intuited by peeking through the keyhole, and commands to desist and drop their weapons bellowed from a loud speaker outside the bank.

Zoe opened the door a crack, spying two clerks whose eyes widened, the variant volumes of the bank robbers decrying attempts to surrender on the part of the SWAT team, and Zoe held a finger to her lips.

“Sneak through here,” Zoe beckoned to the female clerk, holding a hand to the male. “No, not you.”

The female clerk complied, with rapidity of action, Zoe closed the door, and the female clerk breathed a sigh of relief.

“What is that?” the clerk gasped, spying Zoe’s sword.

“Sorry,” Zoe meant it, and knocked the girl out flat with her sword.

Zoe dropped her sword, to change into the clerk’s clothes, brown and dull, a uniformly uniform with a nametag. She picked up her sword and activated a button on the hilt, and a pipe extended to sheathe the blade, and out furrowed the material of the umbrella, and slid catched to look like a mini umbrella, wound with the latch of velcro.

Zoe picked up her briefcase, and headed out the door which led to the upstairs bathroom, and several security guards, tense if not defeated by the standoff, alertly raised their pistols.

“It’s not safe,” warned one of the rifle toting soldiers from upstairs. “You must hunker down.”

Reddening from the obviousness of his words, and that Zoe could no more traverse as a feigned clerk than wield her sword and kill the half dozen security guards, she ducked behind the pot plant, and ruminated, dark thoughts filling her mind.

SNAKE

Snake watched through the MKII’s console, as elite guards poured forth from the vault, rifles ready, dragging an unconscious figure towards the long end of the hallway.

“... we’ll take her to a deserted airstrip. From there… “

Snake jolted to hear, from where he was crouched watching and listening to the MKII’s monitor, the cries from inside the server room where the nerds had hunkered down. The door flew open, and the nerds spied Snake.

“There’s a body in there!” cried one, and the other put two and two together.

“Sorry, kid,” Snake knocked out one with a punch, and the other with a roundhouse kick.

He ducked to his MKII monitor, but the elite guards had already left.

“HQ, respond,” Snake paged his codec, where Adam, Max and Grace connected. “Me and Zoe are stuck down at the bank. It’ll take us a while to get out. But I know where they’re taking Clara… you’ll need to take the Harrier to get there, and no funny business. It’s on loan from Vamp.”


	3. Chapter 3

Grace

“Is this the place?” Grace shivered.

On the banks of the ocean of Hawkes Bay, Grace climbed out of the little dinghy which had landed on the beach. She wore a wetsuit, and armed only with a M9 tranq pistol and her stealth camo on her belt, stepped onto the sand, and gloried in the feel.

“We’re your backup,” Adam reported. “I’ve got the getaway car ready.”

“And I’m in the bushes,” Max reported, and Grace could hear him loading a sniper rifle. “Clara thinks she’s the best shot with the PSG1, but it’s me.”

“I’m so scared,” Grace whispered, as she came into full sight of the landscape.

Sand dunes turfed with bunches of bushes, a spread of sand, a two-storied mansion sitting prettily on the coast, with no civilisation for miles.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Grace crept closer, her stealth camo engaging. “I don’t even see anyone watching. I thought they’d post guards.”

“We’ve got the ransom call, again,” Adam sighed. “This is a good place to hide Clara, but this is where she’ll be.”

“OK… I hope she’s alright,” Grace logged off her codec.

She crept closer to the house, leaving footprints which slid among the sand. She saw the front door was locked, and that the pool had a sliding door open. She felt under the mat, found a key and opened the door, closing it behind her as she saw the living room. It was stark, minimalistic and not at all a bad place to live.

“There’s nobody here,” Grace whispered.

“Then keep searching,” Max urged, and farted loudly in her comms. “This is where Snake said she’d be.”

Grace checked each room but to no avail, and upstairs she looked over a computer and saw car light flashing on the horizon.

“Oh my god, they’re coming,” Grace panicked.

“I see ‘em,” Max readied his rifle.

“Don’t shoot,” Adam warned. “We’ve clearly beat them here. If we fire now, they’ll make tracks. We have to let them settle.”

“Is Clara in there?” Grace shrieked. “Where am I going to hide?”

“Grace, the map shows there’s room just to your left,” Adam spoke quickly. “Hurry!”

Grace saw nothing but a stretch of wall, and a painting on the wall.

“It must be a panic room,” Adam reported. “Is there a secret latch?”

“No!” Grace cried, and the SUVs parked, and chatter and footsteps could faintly be discerned through the windows.

The garage door opened, and other doors throughout the mansion to enter it opened, and Grace, wreathed in her stealth camo, sat in a corner with her knees curled and her hands around them, putting her thumb in her mouth.

“I could shoot out their tyres from here,” Max discerned.

“We can’t tip them off,” Adam urged.

Grace heard footsteps and tensed, saw a pair of guards drag Clara’s unconscious figure close by - Grace’s eyes widened in fear and realisation - and one of the guards swung the painting, and a door popped open.

Grace got to her feet steadily and quietly, as the guards dragged Clara inside, and Grace slipped in, standing with her back to the wall, and the guards exited and closed the secret panel door once more.

Inside, all was quiet, and Clara lay breathing but out for the count, with her hands tied behind her back and her mouth taped.

“Oh, Clara,” Grace wept, and untied her restraints and the tape over her mouth. She shook Clara. “Please wake up!”

Glancing around, Grace only saw a bank of monitors, which showed the interior of the house where the guards had set themselves up nicely, posting positions on the balcony or atop the roof, armed with rifles, while surplus guards made themselves at home with drinks of whisky or turning on the large projector TV.

“I have to help her,” Grace glanced to Clara’s unconscious form. “Adam, Max. Clara’s unconscious and I don’t know how to wake her.”

“She must be drugged,” Adam supposed. “Of course, if she radioes with her codec, she can tell us her position. They must be aware of that, and have taken precautions.”

“I can’t carry her,” Grace whined. “Even with my stealth camo, she’s too heavy. We’d make too much noise.”

“You know who we need,” Max figured.

“Snake,” Adam sighed.

“An _infiltration_ expert,” Max chuckled. “Someone who’s good at it.”

“I’m good at it,” Adam shot back. “But they’ll see me coming.”

“Then you’re not an expert,” Max scathed. “Let me have at them.”

“They’ll shoot Clara!” Adam claimed.

“I know,” Grace came upon an idea. “What if Max starts shooting, and Adam you start coming in, too. I’ll make me and Clara invisible, and they’ll think she’s escaped!”

Max

From his vantage point in the bushes, Max aimed down the sights of his rifle and took aim at the SUV’s tyres, shooting all of them in quick, steady bursts. The tyres deflated, the guards were none the wiser, but became so when Max started aiming headshots.

Scurrying like black ants, Max’s aim became a little less steady and he took Pentazemin, something which Clara never had to do.

“Bitch,” he spat, and Max fired on the guards on the roof, on the balcony, around the perimeter.

He crept closer through the sand, random volleys of bullets scattering in the sand, and he could not creep any closer just in case.

Grace

Grace, hidden in the panic room with Clara unconscious by her side, glimmered with stealth camo encasing both of them, had to stifle her gasp with a hand to her mouth as the panic room door slid open, and the pair of guards with rifles stopped stunned to notice it empty.

“Where’d she go?” demanded the first, roving his eye over the monitors, only seeing those of his kin dead, and those inside hunkering down for cover, with weapons raised.

“Fucked if I know,” replied the second, heading down the little set of stairs, activating the panel there, peeking out to the garage after a quick conversation. He came back up. “They’ve seen no one exit. How else - “

“She can’t have snuck through the vent,” the first pointed above him. “No signs of wear and tear.”

“She must’ve got out through there,” the second pointed to the door which the both of them had entered from. “But she was damn quiet, and drugged besides. What do you think happened?”

“What will happen is the boss will kill us if we let her go,” growled the first. “Keep the sniper penned down. We’ll have to do a sweep. We know what she looks like, and she can’t be far, and she can’t be armed.”

The two guards ran out the door, leaving the panic room open, and Grace tried to drag Clara, but it took an infinitesimal time, and only out to near where the computer desk was, where one of the guards tried to start the SUV, but to no avail, and to his end a headshot rendered him immobile.

Grace crouched with Clara in her grip by the desk, hearing footsteps, shouts to hunker down for cover, guns reloaded and aimed, firing sporadically, shouts of disappointment for having been found, and fury and bitterness for their lost colleagues, growing madder by the second.

“Oh, if only Snake was here,” Grace whispered. “He’d know what to do!”

Adam

“Go in,” Max ordered, over his codec. “They’re penned inside the house. Any who peek out will be shot.”

“They’ll shoot me,” Adam said grimly. “But this is for my friend - friends - and I have to risk it.”

“Vamp could do it,” Max pointed out.

“Well, I only have his speed,” Adam careened down the drive, bumpy along the sand, and gunfire scattered across the windshield and petered into the dunes.

“Approach from the west,” Max ordered. “If they fire from there, I have a better shot of killing them.”

Adam drove onto the sand dunes, jolting this way and that. Gunfire continued, but more or less abated, and he threw himself from the vehicle into a clump of bushes. He ducked his head, and was pinned down.

“Now we’re both stuck,” Adam swore into his comms. “How am I to get out?”

Grace

Grace gasped as beside her, groggy and rubbing her head, Clara got to her feet, and the refraction of light was no longer hers, even as Grace dragged her down, but Clara shook her off.

“What are you doing?” Clara shook memories back into her brain, glancing round.

“Quick, hide!” Grace cried, and Clara, stirred by the gunfire, quickened to hold Grace’s hand, and the two became invisible. A pair of guards hurried to fetch more ammo within their sight, and scurried back into cover.

“What’s going on?” Clara whispered, stirred with fervor.

“You’ve been captured, in Hawkes Bay,” Grace gulped. “Adam and Max are out there, but the enemy has them pinned down.”

“Where’s Snake? Or Zoe?” Clara called upon those most competent members of their team.

“They couldn’t make it,” Grace shook her head.

“So you’re all I’ve got?” Clara chewed her lip. “Great. Give me your stealth camo.”

“What? But I’ll die, Clara,” Grace coloured. “You must know that!”

“Fine,” Clara sighed. “Then I’ll have to do it the old fashioned way. Give me your M9, and follow me.”

Clara

Clara checked the ammo, armed with only a tranq pistol, while Grace hid in the shadows, behind cover, with her stealth camo, and felt rather like Snake as she crept through the mansion, all attention poised on the west sand dunes, where bullets peppered the mansion’s windows and furniture, and guards armed with rifles hid for cover, cursed their luck, checked on ammo and reloaded their weapons, radioing _their_ HQ.

“Our SUVs are down,” spoke one enemy. “We need reinforcements.”

Clara gestured to Grace, and the two snuck out through the double doors nearest the computer desk, out onto a timbered balcony of sorts, Clara’s M9 raised all the while. Trained by Snake, or at least mimicking him, and a proficient shot with a rifle, Clara scaled down the wall and jumped into a clump of bushes, facing the _opposite_ side from where Max and Adam were pinned down. Grace joined her with a muffled grunt.

Only the breeze stirred their hair, and no guards were present, and the gunfire was ever-present echoing from the other side of the mansion.

“I’m back,” Clara paged her comms. “Where’s the exit strategy?”

“We can’t exit,” Adam cried, in his usual whiny tone. “We’re stuck!”

“Well, I can’t take out a dozen guards with just a M9,” Clara scoffed. “And Grace won’t give me her stealth camo.”

“Snake could do it,” Max raised his voice.

Clara curled her fists, and went round the side of the property near where the bins were, and cautiously opened the door.

“I’ll stay with you, Clara,” Grace’s footsteps, however light, were the only evidence of her presence, that and her whiny voice similar to her brother’s.

“Just shut up,” Clara warned, and headed down the corridor, cautiously opening a door where the living room was spread out, and the bulk of the dozen guards were crouched behind cover.

“Clara, don’t you have the ability to deflect bullets?” Grace whispered.

“No, they took it off me,” Clara hissed. “Where did they put my things?”

“I don’t know, Clara, honest!” Grace cried.

Clara aimed over the kitchen counter, all enemies glancing towards the west side of the property, breathing hard, stifled at feeling pinned down, wanting nothing more than to avenge their comrades. She fired, the silenced shot piercing one man through the head, and he fell asleep.

“Quick, move!” Clara ordered, and Grace, cloaked in stealth camo, crouched in a corner.

Clara hurried down the corridor, hearing footsteps close by, and the attention of some guards turning, as more sniper fire resumed from the sand dunes far off. She tore into the garage which was empty but for a storage bin and some home necessities, and from the door which led directly beside the TV projector, burst a guard who raised his pistol as she raised hers.

She fired and his head was pierced by a tranq dart; he fell, but the bullet caught her shoulder, and unused not to deflect bullets, she fell. Footsteps were close behind as guards held her at gunpoint.

“Bitch,” spat the guards, kicking aside her tranq gun. “How’d you get free? Tie her up.”

Adam

“I’m almost there,” Adam paged his codec.

Max’s rifle fire penned down what few soldiers remained to overlook the west side of the property, and Adam crawled through the sand, wishing he had camo to match. He came upon near the closed garage door, a pipe which he might climb, and he did so as he heard grunts, disfavor in the form of harried conversation and footsteps come in the slightest from the garage.

Adam reached the second storey balcony, feeling aware Max could shoot him if he was in a bad mood, and climbed into the master bedroom ensuite’s open window, stepping on a rubber duck. He froze, and heard footsteps as he hid behind the bath, his silenced M191A11 ready, as the footsteps came closer.

Adam lashed out, his CQC at the ready, taking the guard down with a swift chop, a kick, a dismantling and a disarming, which saw the guard out cold.

“Now that’s _my_ skill,” Adam huffed, and peeked into the master bedroom, where only one guard remained, shivering in the throes of fear, blood splattered but unwounded, fear peaking for all the scurrying, his rifle at the ready, prepared to die for the cause if need be.

Adam walked in, aimed his pistol and fired a headshot, and ended the guard’s life.

“Move in,” Adam comm’d Max. “You should meet less resistance from the second storey.”

Max

Max, by now sick of the sniper rifle which was Clara’s forte, and keen to use some of his vigor on the grenade launcher, crawled closer to the house, hidden in the shrub, more revealed by the sand dunes, and taking up quick cover behind a wall of the exterior house.

“Upstairs secure,” Adam comm’d. “They’ve put Clara back in the panic room, two of them are in there with her. Grace’s hidden by the fish tank. The rest are in the living room. Their backup’s not far from arriving.”

“Get out of the splash zone,” Max warned, to both Adam and Grace.

Grace

Grace, idly fascinated by the fish whose lives were only in corral and the purchased finery of ornaments in their cage, she felt sorry for, and tugged with her heartstrings that they must witness such. An explosion rocked the lower floor, and the front doors were no more, and Grace knew, through sudden fear and fright and relief, that the big guns were here, and generally where they were from her side, she could feel at once a sense of safety, if not quiet.

Guards were torn apart, even hiding from behind cover, as Max launched salvo after salvo. From upstairs, Grace could see a pair of guards with rifles glance over, firing sporadic shots into the smoke and dust and rubble, and receiving their just desserts when a grenade spun through the air, made contact, and destroyed much of the upper architecture.

“Oh, Clara,” Grace cried, and hurried down the corridor where all the shelves and storage items were kept, and out the other side into the garage, which was now deserted but for the sleeping countenance of a soldier tranq’d in the forehead.

She tried to open the panel which she was sure was another way into the panic room, but it did not budge, and she opened the garage door, breathing in fresh night air, and seeing with horror headlights on the horizon.

“Backup’s here! Oh my gosh,” Grace sweated. “You guys have to hurry!”

Adam

The smoke and dust settling, the rubble still falling and disintegrating, the house was largely silent but for Max’s footsteps, as much a terror as Duke Nukem, to walk through with his grenade launcher on the lower level, while Adam peeked over from the upper level.

“Get Clara,” Max snarled. “I’ll cover us.”

Adam headed for the panic room, and saw Clara tied up once more, her mouth taped once more, unconscious once more.

“I’m not that strong,” Adam admitted, carrying her with difficulty.

He carried her out past the computer desk, past the crumbling upper balcony and out onto the wooden deck, where once Clara and Grace had jumped down from during their initial escape.

“I’m on the east balcony,” Adam comm’d, and Max’s footsteps prefaced his appearing near the bins, and Grace materialised from her stealth camo to join him, having come from round the garage route.

Adam tossed Clara to Max and Grace, who caught her with grunts and pain on the latter’s side, and jumped down himself. The three of them, carrying Clara and with Grace’s stealth camo activated, headed for the beach, where the dinghy was washed up quite a far walk away.

“I found this,” Grace pulled out a device. “It’s Clara’s - “

“Give it here,” Max snatched. “You should’ve got her weapons, too.”

“I tried! But there were too many,” Grace claimed.

Along the beach, cloaked in stealth camo, lit by the moon light, the breeze stirring sand and bushes, their footsteps made plain, a dot on the horizon as far as the backup guards who roamed the property could see, looking at the carnage caused, hammering their palms into fists, issuing urgent orders, surprised at the success of the rescue attempt which saw them so out of pocket.

"That was close," Daniel breathed, helping to push the dinghy out to sea.

In the moonlight, they caught up, and close breathing met with sweat and mingled disappointment at how they had handled the situation.

"You know, I've seen a brochure," Daniel enunciated the word a la Hyacinth Bucket. "It's for Haven Island in the Maldives. Could be nice - "

"No!" cried Kellie plaintively, Bonnie scoffing, and Frank with ardency.

"It was just a thought," Daniel sulked. "I just want us all to have fun."

"You're not choosing the next place," Bonnie folded her arms. "I want to see Snake."

Adrift, their dinghy floated, leaving them all with the weight of silence and reminiscence, for days long since past.


End file.
